


The Light in My Eyes

by doobieace



Category: In the Flesh (TV)
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, M/M, PTSD, Post-Season/Series 02, how do you tag simon's past?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 20:42:56
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2124063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doobieace/pseuds/doobieace
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Simon has a nightmare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Light in My Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> The title based off the lyrics of Keaton Henson's "10am Gare Du Nord," which reflects both Simon and Kieren's perspectives beautifully.

Simon awakes with a start. The images of his nightmare are still so vivid, that in the blackness of the room he doesn't know where he is. Only dark. The room he is in smells nothing like the sterile hospital in which he was held in and experimented on, no slight stench of decay hanging in the air like the mildew clinging to cement walls. But sense memory overwhelms him like an insidious fog, and the only thing he can see are the words echoing in his mind.

_You don't deserve to look at her!_

_I don't want to do this anymore._

_Can anybody hear me?_

_Please._

Simon gives a sharp, small cry, as if someone had stuck him with a dagger. _Just another test,_ he imagines a neutral voice saying. _He can't feel a thing, he can't feel a thing..._

He screws his eyes shut tightly, no air in his dead chest to choke on. He tries to breath, and the image of black ooze roils in his stomach, stinging his throat. He starts to curl in upon him self, pulling the neck of his jumper over his mouth to stifle any moans or cries. Metal instruments picking and cutting into his skin, no pain receptors to properly register the dissection. Only slight pressure. Only the vibrations of being carved into reverberating through his empty shell and into his numbed mind. Only wires and electrodes and machines and shame and faces unseeing even as he looks at them and pleads _help, please help me_ like a child trapped at the bottom of a well and seeing people pass by but no one stopping to look.

Something in the bed next to him shifts a little, and Simon freezes, his mind trying to catch up with the present, and why he was on a bed instead of suspended on a cold examination table -

"Simon?" comes the sleepy inquiry.

An arm reaches around Simon, and he turns around, gasping and reaching out, relief beginning to swell in the midst of his panic. He wraps his arm around Kieren like a desperate man to an anchor, trembling still as he buries his face into the other's chest.

Kieren shifts lightly under Simon, confusion beginning to wake his sleepy mind. He begins to rub Simon's back softly, trying to see Simon's face to discern what was wrong.

"Simon?" he asks again softly, his voice more worried. At another muffled whimper, Kieren tries to sit up more, tugging Simon with him.

"Hey," he hushes. "Hey, you're all right."

Kieren fully holds Simon now, his chin resting on the other's shoulder as his hands grip the soft jumper down the curve of his back. Kieren brings up his hand to stroke the back of Simon's head as he shakes. He's rarely seen Simon upset, and even then it's a righteous kind of agitation founded in extension to others' plight. Like the fire in his eyes when he had seen those locked up rabids at the hospital, or the reserved sadness at Amy's funeral. Here was a man who seemed in control of the darkness lingering from his past, and seeing that confidence waver scares Kieren a little. 

A few moments later Simon pulls back a little from Kieren, avoiding his eyes. "Just - my time at the treatment center," he says by way of explanation. He glances into those eyes before looking away again. "They would do tests on me, and -" _And they wouldn't let me leave, and they still couldn't find a cure, and even after they gave up on me like a useless experiment I didn't belong anywhere._ Simon's throat feels thick, and he's suddenly thankful for his dry tear ducts.

Kieren seems to understand, as Simon cuts off and clutches tighter to Kieren. Kieren turns Simon's head to look into his eyes. They're so unsure. White, like his, slightly opalescent. Kieren remembers how, not so long ago, he would wear his contacts to sleep, the long term discomfort worth it to extinguish the possibility of any uncomfortable late night run-ins with Jem or his parents; or the internal conflict of feeling like anything other than a normal human. But as he looks into Simon's eyes, he's glad his own are uncovered. It's calming to see the familiar eyes of another PDS sufferer, just as Kieren had calmed Freddie Preston and other rabids. That sameness connects them.

"Hey, you're okay now, hm?" Kieren reassures him. "You're not there anymore. You're here." He smoothes down some of Simon's hair, and the other man looks at him in a way that makes his stomach flutter nervously. As if he has all the answers. Kieren knows this is far from the truth, that Simon is the one who has his situation together, who can make quick decisions and thoughtful insights. When Kieren slips and feels unstable, Simon is a fixed point. In some of the inclement moments Simon is what keeps Kieren from falling off that slope, even if he doesn't know it. But then, Kieren muses as the two lay back down against each other comfortably, maybe Simon is as uncertain as he himself is, and their confidence in each other is the balance that keeps both of them afloat. And maybe Kieren's okay with that.

Despite the growing worry of repercussions from the ULA and members of his own flock plotting against him, Simon's problems grow distant, even unimportant. In this moment, Simon feels safe.


End file.
